


The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift

by Cheesecloth



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, If you want me to stop writing tender Ineffable fics you're going to have to kill me, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Lots of little kisses, M/M, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Valentine's Day Fluff, and snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22726621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheesecloth/pseuds/Cheesecloth
Summary: Usually, every year on Valentine’s Day, he found a way to elaborately design the best date on the fly. He’s a big fan of improvisation. Leaves extra room for procrastination.But this year, this day, this minute, his mind was pulling a blank.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift

Crowley’s arm twitched as he reached for the handle of Aziraphale’s bookshop.

He paused and allowed all the jitters to shake through him. Then he pulled the door open and sauntered inside.

“Angel,” he started, but then his mouth hung open and his corporation could provide no more words. Usually, every year on Valentine’s Day, he found a way to elaborately design the best date on the fly. He’s a big fan of improvisation. Leaves extra room for procrastination.

But this year, this day, this minute, his mind was pulling a blank. Big beautiful proposal? Already done it. They’re married now, after all.

Private dinner in a romantic location? Well, they do that just about every few days for the last few years since the failed Apocalypse. Hot air balloon? Done it. Lead balloon - which is different, there’s a very definite distinction - done it. Ballroom dancing? A bit of a disaster but absolutely fun.

Cooking classes, wineries, picnics, karaoke (which wasn’t that bad, actually), pottery classes, watching movies and plays and operas and-

Well, they’ve just pretty much done it all. A thousand different ways.

Aziraphale looked up from his books and made a tutting sound. “What’s wrong, dear?”

“Ah-er-uh-erk-“

“Hm? Oh, it’s Valentine’s Day, isn’t it? What’s your plan for us today? I did love the aquarium last year. And the way you arranged the fish into a heart?” Aziraphale put a hand over his chest and he gave Crowley a dreamy smile and watched the demon melt against the door frame. “Sweetheart?”

Crowley shrugged and made a series of confused and uncertain noises as though he were saying something coherent.

Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully. He took in the slight tremble in his husband’s hands. The frantic raise of his brow.. with the millennia that he covered his gorgeous yellow eyes, he’s learned to decipher Crowley’s micro-expressions.

He surged up from his seat, eager to comfort his husband. The moment he laid his hand gentle as ever on Crowley’s arm, his husband crumbled against him, smiling at Aziraphale’s familiar warmth. He cuddled deep into the Aziraphale’s embrace and guffawed when the 6,000-year-old angel used his hands to tickle his maudlin, sappy demon.

Aziraphale felt Crowley reach up and remove his own glasses, and he looked down at his bright yellow eyes. They were much calmer now. He hadn’t seen them before, but he knew his husband.

“Now now, my dearest. What was worrying you earlier?”

Crowley turned his head into Aziraphale’s new tartan vest and mumbled.

Aziraphale felt a surge of affection. He kissed soft, downy ginger hair and felt Crowley sag into him, sighing in content.

“Alright now, does this have anything to do with our date today?”

Immediately, he felt Crowley tense, and Aziraphale held him tightly.

“Goodness, you don’t have to worry. I know you, Crowley. I know you enjoy playing it by ear. Is that what’s wrong?”

Crowley nodded against him, and Aziraphale patted his hair indulgently.

“I can plan today’s date,” he suggests.

The demon parts away an inch so he can stare unbelievingly at his husband. “Really? You’d- you’d do that? What do you want to do? We can go anywhere, everywhere, we can go to space again- Or- We- You-“

Aziraphale laughed. The poor demon was talking too fast to think. He kissed between Crowley’s eyes and watched delightedly as those ginger eyelashes fluttered.

“You want to do something we’ve never done before?” Aziraphale asked.

“Mm.” Crowley let himself think it over. He nodded. “Yuh.”

“Well it is a very special day for romance,” Aziraphale looked around his bookshop, searching for an idea. He never quite specialized in improvising, himself. “I’ve…I’ve got an idea, I believe.”

Yellow serpentine eyes narrowed, but Crowley seemed to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Yeah?”

“Oh yes,” the idea was already forming in his mind.

How do you satisfy an anxious, hopelessly romantic demon?

“Bring all the pillows and throw blankets to the back room, please my dear? I’m going to make some tea for us.”

Crowley brightened, and he did as instructed, crossing the room and searching for Aziraphale’s fluffy quilts.

“Any of those spiced teas left?” His usually split, human-sized tongue tended to flicker into a small, serpent-like tongue. It was such a charming habit. He watched from across the room, watching as his husband smelled the air in advance for the spices from his favorite teas.

“Just got a new delivery this morning, actually. That sweet delivery girl found a new shop. Nothing but spiced teas around. New ones too. They’re always inventing.”

Crowley paused, holding up his favorite of Aziraphale’s angel-feather-stuffed pillows. Admittedly, Aziraphale made them for his husband when he molted. Each year began a new comfort item for his beloved demon. All the same, Crowley had a favorite. A cherished.

“I bloody love you.”

When every soft thing was gathered around their favorite armchairs, Aziraphale entered the room and set aside the teas, as well as a plate of macaroons from who knows where.

He leaned into his demon from behind and chastely kissed Crowley’s ear. The demon squealed and turned in to Aziraphale’s vest with a hearty smile.

“So what’s your plan? How are we sprucing it up this Valentine’s?” Crowley couldn’t help but ask.

“It’s a simple idea, really, but I think you’ll love it.”

“Oh, will I?” He looked up into Aziraphale’s blue eyes and raised his brows. He’d probably meant to look sarcastic, or at least a little wily. But the wide grin on his face and his crinkled, happy eyes showed otherwise how he felt.

“Hm.” Aziraphale kissed his nose. “Place the quilt on the floor between the couches, please. I want to make this the human way.”

Crowley kissed him quickly before getting to work. He followed Aziraphale’s new orders to the dot. Together, they re-arranged the area into what looked like a pillow fort.

The moment Crowley realized what they were doing, his traitor heart beat quickly and he had to cover his fond upturn of lips with his arm. But it wasn’t enough. He giggled into his arm and Aziraphale joined him.

They spent ten minutes perfecting their little fort. The tea was still miracle-warm. They placed it between themselves as they laid on the plush quilt. One very large blanket was placed gingerly over all the neatly (and clumsily, on Crowley’s side) stacked pillows. It shielded them from the world. Crowley cheated a bit by snapping his fingers and miracling some fairy-lights. He may or may not have googled pillow forts while they were building and saw some…great examples.

And while Aziraphale had been out of the fort to retrieve the tea and macaroons, Crowley set up some fake candles and some freshly-bloomed flowers to place on a little, one-inch platform table between them that was meant to hold the teas and Aziraphale’s food.

Behind Crowley’s back was a gift. He had hidden it carefully enough for a while, but it was about time to give it to his husband.

“So.” Aziraphale wiggled. His eyes shone and sparkled - it was the fairy-lights reflecting around them, but nevertheless it was a gorgeous, breathtaking sight - and the angel sat primly on one of the cushions.

“So,” Crowley said. “This is lovely.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you enjoy the nest, darling! Here, one of the newer teas. Hasn’t even got a name yet! But it’s a particular favorite in the shop. And don’t worry, I did tip our dear delivery girl. I’ve always loved the look of surprise on her face. Have you been increasing the tip, by the way? She was still surprised as always but not quite as much as I’d thought-“

“This is a nest?” Crowley put his tea down, not yet ready to be distracted by its taste when he was already distracted by the fantastic spicy scent and whatever Aziraphale was on about. “We built a nest for Valentine’s Day?”

Aziraphale’s eyes creased endearingly as he smiled. “Romantic, isn’t it?”

Crowley swooped in over the small table to kiss him. “I love it. I love you. And I-“ He lifted the tea after he parted, bringing it to his lips.

Aziraphale observed as the pupils of Crowley’s eyes widened quite like a cat. He sipped at the tea, even though it was still hot.

“Blimey!”

“I told you, it’s a favorite already. You’re dreadfully creative, dear, maybe you can help them come up with a name for their new tea?”

Crowley crawled over to Aziraphale’s side, mumbled a “Scooch over babe”, and cuddled into Aziraphale.

Aziraphale’s heart nearly gave out. Crowley quietly nursed his tea for a few moments before nodding serenely. “I’ve got you something too, dove.”

From behind him, probably, Crowley brought out a carefully wrapped package. From the size and shape of it, it must be a book.

There Aziraphale goes, wiggling again. He set down his unspiced, heavily creamed tea.

“Thought it best to give it to you before you start on the macaroons. Messy, sticky things those are.”

Aziraphale kissed his cheek and eagerly revealed the book hidden within. He gasped loudly.

“Oh Crowley! You shouldn’t have- Oh my dearest! Oh! The Tale of Peter Rabbit? And a first edition! It’s so small! Oh it’s absolutely precious, where did you even-“

“I got my sources,” Crowley mumbled, trying to hide his eyes that were probably, most _definitely_ , filled with tender adoration again.

“Even now you still surprise me with your thoughtfulness.”

Crowley squirmed. He harumphed, kissing Aziraphale’s cheek.

“Put down your tea, dear.”

“Fine, fine. Bring it in.” He said expectantly.

And so Aziraphale did. He smothered his demon in kisses and bright sentimental endearment. The poor thing fell back against the onslaught and giggled again. Oh, how Aziraphale loved to hear Crowley’s unhidden joy.

They remained there, in their pillow fort nest, kissing and bantering with great affection endlessly for hours. Perhaps even the rest of the day. It didn’t matter. It never mattered that it was Valentine’s Day. The world was theirs now, to have as many Valentine’s Days and as many Valentine’s _Years_. Their silhouettes from the outside showed an angel and a demon, practically glued to each other’s side as Aziraphale ate his macaroons and Crowley gestured wildly about the stars.

Crowley had Aziraphale, and Aziraphale had Crowley. The rest was just history. 

It went down, just as you’d expect, like a lead balloon.


End file.
